Running

Burned alive, invisible
The passion can’t escape, trapped
Mutated by fear, temptation boils to the surface, urgent, desperate.
It betrays me, the passion.
The fear corrupts it. I try not to hear its whispers or feel its grip tighten around my waist, my eyes, my mind.
Sluggish, apathetic, dull. It begins to manifest itself in my body. I wage war. I look, listen, feel for sights and sounds and people, for help. I need help. Someone, help.
But help is for the weak, I should be able to manage this alone… there will be days that will be necessary… I need to practice… It whispers.
I am strong, smart, capable. I will win… but when. Will I fight this war forever?